


The Funeral Director is a Werewolf

by ThreeHats



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 15:40:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6334699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeHats/pseuds/ThreeHats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bullets rained down upon the horde of werewolves, turning their snarling, spitting muzzles into so much shrapnel speckled flesh. Deadpool stood above them, his legs spreadeagled as they spanned the short corridor, his nuts dangling precariously close to the outstretched maws of the ravenous wolfmen as he flung more hot lead their way. The makeshift cabin in the snowy mountains of Siberia had proven a poor choice of breeding ground for these little puppies, and Wade intended to do as Bob Barker so often encouraged. Spay and neuter with extreme prejudice.</p><p>All characters, locations and scenarios were pulled out of a hat to create this story, which was written in 30 minutes or less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Funeral Director is a Werewolf

All characters, locations and scenarios were pulled out of a hat to create this story, which was written in 30 minutes or less.

 **Characters:** Deadpool, a delivery guy who is bad at his job  
 **Location:** Siberia  
 **Scenario:** Werewolves

 

Bullets rained down upon the horde of werewolves, turning their snarling, spitting muzzles into so much shrapnel speckled flesh. Deadpool stood above them, his legs spreadeagled as they spanned the short corridor, his nuts dangling precariously close to the outstretched maws of the ravenous wolfmen as he flung more hot lead their way. The makeshift cabin in the snowy mountains of Siberia had proven a poor choice of breeding ground for these little puppies, and Wade intended to do as Bob Barker so often encouraged. Spay and neuter with extreme prejudice.

"I know these aren't silver," Deadpool confessed, his scarlet mask doing little to muffle his quips as they punctuated his gunfire, "but then again, when was the last time you boys ever brought out the fine china for little old me? If you won't spoil me, I sure as hell ain't gonna spoil you."

A lycanthrope launched itself onto its friends' hunched, hairy shoulders and bounded all too close to Deadpool's nethers, causing him to unleash an emasculating squeal as well as four or five bullets to its saliva soaked mouth, caving in its cranium.

"Do I need to fetch a newspaper?" Deadpool grunted as he began shuffling his way to the shack's entrance, his legs rubbing painfully against the wood as he shifted his weight to and fro, his body slowly lowering with every inch of progress. Deadpool turned and threw the wolves a stern look. "Don't make me rub your face in that mess!"

There was a knock on the door, and Wade allowed himself a sigh of relief. He flipped down to the ground just ahead of the manic throng of bloodthirsty half-men half-scooby doos and called out to the person on the other side of the door.

"Great! You're here! And just in time!" Deadpool grinned behind his mask and withdrew his katanas, posing so that when the teaser for this movie came out they'd at least have one heroic looking shot to mislead the audience with. "I'm gonna need those silver bullets you brought to take these guys down for good! But I gotta hold them off or else they might get out, so all you gotta do is open the door and kick the ammo toward me!"

There was a pause, filled with the sound of gnashing teeth, growling, and Wade's impatience. He gave the man outside another beat to respond, and then tensed his well defined muscles for dramatic effect.

"I said open the door and kick the ammo my way!" Deadpool insisted, his foot instinctively turning as he positioned himself for a defensive flurry. The wolves literally climbed over themselves as they hunted toward him. "That's all you gotta do!"

"Erm," came the thick accented voice from the other side of the door. "I, uh, I do not understand."

"Dude!" Wade challenged. "This isn't rocket science, just get in here and give me the silver bullets I ordered!"

"There is... I do not... I can not open door."

Deadpool almost forgot the wolves existed for a moment, which in this universe implied that they no longer mattered for the duration of Deadpool's mini rant.

"You can't open a door? What kind of delivery guy doesn't know how a shack door works?" Deadpool asked, baffled by the incompetence. "You turn the handle and push! Then the door takes care of the rest!"

"I, er... Can you open door?" the deeply dumb voice replied.

"No I can not open door!" Deadpool gasped, the offense in his voice palpable. "I open door, werewolves open skull! Specifically my skull, and then presumably yours. Though given your display of intelligence so far, I don't know how much of an effect that would have."

"What is door?"

"Great question" Deadpool's swords clashed with the claws of the largest of the lycans, deflecting them and causing the entire horde to lunge back in surprise. He watched as they visibly moved as one, a group with a singular mind. As opposed to the delivery man, a singular person with zero mind. "Why don't you do some tests? Some research? Fiddle about with the handle and get back to me on your discoveries!"

"I make love to door," came the delivery man's voice, followed by a series of weak thuds that suggested man-on-particle board related coitus.

"Hey they just had that installed! She's too young for you!" Deadpool cried defiantly as the wolves bore down upon him, his bullets now piercing through the dominant alphas in front and having little to no effect on their progress. Had they been the silver ones now belonging to the door's sexual partner, he would be winning this fight. As it was, he was losing on two fronts. "Please! Just open the door! You're the worst delivery boy since Tobey Maguire in the first ten minutes of Spiderman 2!"

"I thought you Spiderman."

"Yeah I get that a lot," Deadpool sighed, his head buried deep in the muzzle of the primary werewolf. Its jaw embraced his cranium, his head ready to pop like a fresh raspberry at any minute. "Well, this beats the time I was almost buried alive in Iraq a few years back. Though I was much cuter then."

Wade closed his eyes and waited for everything to go dark, but to his surprise, there was light instead. Light from the door that had finally opened, the confused balding delivery man standing transfixed by the grisly spectacle taking place inside the Siberian shack in the middle of nowhere.

"I open do-"

Before the delivery guy could finish speaking, the wolves tore themselves away from Deadpool and rushed the door, making quick work of the ignorant bystander and flaying him in seconds, leaving behind only his uniform and a skeleton.

EPILOGUE

Months later, still in Siberia btw, Deadpool is at the funeral for the delivery guy. As they are lowering his coffin into the grave, a dull series of thuds can be heard.

"I can not open door," comes a thick accented voice from within the casket.

Deadpool turns to the camera and winks: "That's our delivery guy! Now let's play some space baseball!"

The funeral director is a werewolf.


End file.
